


“He never blamed you.”

by Descaladumidera



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Guilt is a cruel mistress, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Stephen blames himself, Stephen needs a hug, understanding Pepper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18685954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descaladumidera/pseuds/Descaladumidera
Summary: SPOILERS FOR AVENGERS: ENDGAMEStephen blames himself and needs some closure.





	“He never blamed you.”

**Author's Note:**

> A little something that got stuck in my head and needed to be written down. Endgame killed me.

It has been exactly four days, twenty hours and fifty-three minutes since the funeral. Stephen would know, because he has counted the time since he has left the Starks’ lakeside house, not being able to keep all that has happened from his mind. It’s eating him alive, occupying his thoughts when he is awake, crawling into his dreams when he is asleep. The guilt. Oh god, the guilt. It’s driving him insane, makes it impossible to concentrate, to eat, to work. He is merely skin and bones at this point, dark circles under his eyes, skin grey and sunken. He looks positively ill, but Wong hasn’t said anything. Yet. In time he will, Stephen knows.

And he also knows he can’t keep living like this, with the guilt gnawing at his very being, making living hell. He needs to get some closure. He at least needs to try. And so he finds himself getting his sling-ring, for once donning everyday clothes instead of his sorcerer robes, and opening a portal with shaking hands. That has got worse, too. The trembling of his hands. God, how he hates it, hates himself.

With a step and a sigh he reemerges on the other side of the portal, right in front of a familiar lakeside house. It hasn’t changed one bit in the last four days, twenty-one hours and two minutes.

The only difference are the two teenagers playing with a little girl, now looking at him expectantly. Stephen closes the portal and takes a step forward, only to find himself confronted by said little girl—oh god, Morgan looks so much like her father and the guilt rears its ugly head, smacking Stephen right in the guts.

“I’ve seen you before. Who are you?” She demands to know, her arms crossed, her face stoic, and Stephen can’t help it. He can’t ignore her, so he crouches down, until he is on eye level with her, and smiles.

“Hello, Morgan. I’m Stephen, I was a … friend of your dad,” he answers dutifully, only stumbling slightly on how to define his relationship with Tony. Could he really say that they have been friends? From everyone’s perspective, they have known each other only for a few hours, because nobody knows how much time Stephen has spent in those futures he has looked at on Titan with the other man. But it is easier this way—at least for a five-year-old.

The two teenagers have come closer while he has been talking to Morgan and now he looks up at them. “Hello, Doctor Strange.” Peter’s voice sounds strangled and there is a darkness in his eyes that Stephen will need to address at some point. Not now, later.

He gives Peter a nod and looks to the other boy. He has been at the funeral as well, but Stephen doesn’t know him. He nods in his direction anyway and gets a wary nod in return.

Stephen sighs and stands back up to his full height, awkwardly looming over the children now. He doesn’t like it. He probably looks even taller, now that he has lost so much weight, his clothes hanging from his far too thin frame. But he drags the thoughts to the back of his mind, plastering on a smile again, before he says, “I wanted to talk to Pepper. Do you guys know where she is?”

Peter points to the house, while Morgan walks over to him and clings to his leg. Stephen thinks it’s rather adorable. Tony would have liked that. “She’s inside with my aunt. I think they are talking about serious stuff.”

“Yeah, they basically kicked us out,” the other boy snorts humourlessly.

Stephen nods again and throws a quick _thank you_ their way, before walking up to the house and in through the door. Maybe he should have knocked, but he feels like his nerves have been laid bare, adrenaline and fear surging through his body as he calls out, “Mrs. Stark? Hello? Peter said you were insi—oh. Uhm. Hello.”

He stops in the doorway of the living-room and takes in the scene, now feeling very nervous as the two women sitting on the couch fix their gazes on him. He can see Pepper furrowing her eyebrows, before her face smooths out and a smile appears on her lips. “Doctor Strange! What a surprise.”

And suddenly she is up and right in front of him, holding out her hand for him too shake. He does so automatically, lost for words. And when he takes a closer look, he can see the tiredness in Pepper’s eyes, in her posture, in the way she grabs his hand.

All of this is his fault, he realises and the guilt gnaws at him again, ramming its sharp, little teeth into his heart, shredding it to pieces.

“Hi,” he manages, softly. It takes a few moments for him to compose himself, days without food and barely any sleep catching up with him, making him light-headed, dizzy on his feet. But then he catches himself again, and keeps talking, “I’m sorry for barging in like this, but I need to talk to you. I understand if it’s bad timing, I can come back another day if it’s more sufficient for you?”

In that moment Peter’s aunt—Stephen can’t recall her name right now and feels bad for it—appears right next to them. “I will go have a look if the boys are behaving and not teaching Morgan anything dangerous,” she says and smiles easily at them, like only a parent can in the prospect of their child getting into trouble.

It’s good that Peter has her, Stephen thinks, but he will still have to talk to the boy. Later. Right, later. Now he needs to talk to Pepper and live with her telling him that she never wants to hear from him again. Probably. Who knows?

With Peter’s aunt gone, Pepper leads him to the couch and makes him sit down. And now Stephen begins to think that he isn’t prepared for this. What did he think, coming here, wanting to talk to Pepper, telling her everything he has done, just to get closure? He can’t do this. He should go. Right now.

“Do you want something to drink? Doctor Strange?”

He snaps back to attention at hearing his name and shakes his head. He doubts that he can keep anything down right now. He clears his throat. “No, thank you. And please call me Stephen. I don’t think I can do this if you keep calling me _Doctor Strange_.”

Pepper looks at him funny, but nods nonetheless. “Pepper,” she simply replies and sits down next to him.

And this is it, isn’t it? He needs to tell her now. Needs to tell her that he has sent Tony to his death. That he is responsible for her husband never coming back. That he is responsible for that bright, young girl out there growing up without her father. That he is responsible for all this heartbreak.

“I …” he starts, but his voice cracks and he can’t help the tears burning in his eyes. Oh god, all of this is his fault and his alone. He hasn’t done enough, hasn’t looked into enough futures, hasn’t thought about another way, has simply accepted this as the only one. And the tears spill, leaving hot tracks on his cheeks.

And there is Pepper’s small hand, gently placed on his shoulder, while the tears fall and silent sobs shake him apart. But he can’t stop now, he needs to do this and so he turns to Pepper. “I am _so_ sorry,” he chokes out and he knows she must be confused as to why he is apologising, but he can’t think right now. The words spill out of him, much like his tears, and he is sure it’s all a garbled mess.

He apologises again and again, for everything. He probably doesn’t make much sense right now, but he can’t seem to stop, just keeps going.

And when he finally closes his mouth, tears still present on his face, his lower lip bitten raw in his attempts to keep it together and failing, he feels like he could sleep for a year. He is so exhausted.

But he can’t leave now, needs to wait for Pepper to yell at him, to kick him out of her house, to make him leave and never come back. He waits for the accusations, for the heartbreak—maybe for a slap in the face. But nothing comes.

When he dares to look at her, he sees her smile at him softly. Completely caught of guard, he opens his mouth to speak, to demand to know why she isn’t reacting in the way he expects her to, but Pepper simply draws him into a hug.

“I know,” she whispers into his ear and holds him a bit tighter against her. Stephen can’t help it. He sags against her, leans into her hug, tired to the bone. “I know,” she repeats, softer this time.

And all of this doesn’t make sense, but Stephen is tired and exhausted and he wants nothing more than sleep for the next ten years. His brain is a mess, his thoughts all over the place, and the only thing grounding him is Pepper’s touch and her gentle words, her _I know_ ’s whispered again and again and again into his ear, not an ounce of judgement in her voice.

It feels like centuries have gone by until they part again. His tears have stopped, but he can still feel the wetness on his cheeks. In a far too intimate gesture Pepper wipes the remaining tears from his face, but he doesn’t object. He is so tired.

“He told me, you know? Tony. He told me about the one future. And about you. I think he knew he would die,” she explains, her voice remarkably steady, while her clear blue eyes look into his own. And Stephen wants to scream, wants to demand, _Why aren’t you mad at me, I killed the man you love_ , but Pepper keeps talking. “I don’t blame you. Stephen, it’s _not your fault_.”

And there is no room for argument, really. Stephen tries, but Pepper shuts him down again and again and again, until Stephen can’t do it anymore. He needs sleep so badly. It feels like his mind has shut down hours ago. He can’t really tell.

He doesn’t object when Pepper leads him to another room and makes him lie down on the bed there. He isn’t sure, but he thinks she even tucks him in. And then he is out like a light, imagining hearing words that ease his heart but can’t be real.

“He knew there was no other way. He never blamed you. Rest now.”


End file.
